Bold And Restless
by Mon Fay
Summary: There's a hospital state side that employs members of medical staff we know all too well... or do we? Written as a joint venture by Mon Alice and Maple Fay.
1. Escaping Burns

**Authors' Notes:**

**Hello, this is Mon Alice and Maple Fay, presenting our experiment, the very first attempt both in direct cooperation, and in writing a story of such format. We do it purely for fun, and we'll see where that will lead us. We only ask you not to treat us, and this story too seriously. :)))**

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At half past eight PM on a warm Saturday evening, the canteen of SFTH looked almost deserted, the only exception being a pair of black laced boots, resting on one of the tables, and being obviously attached to somebody's body, which was currently lying down on a wooden bench.

Those boots were the first thing noticed by the Head of Surgery as he stormed into the dimly lit room and looked around, obviously hunting somebody down. Having spotted the offensive boots, like a hellhound on a blood trail he sprinted towards the table they rested upon and banged it with a fist.

"Pierce! What do you think you're doing?!"

"I am taking fifteen minutes of a well-deserved break after a long and complicated procedure," came a muffled answer from a chair on which the criminal's head has been resting. The other doctor grunted and repeated his gesture.

"Get up this instant! You and Hunnicutt were supposed to start your shift ten minutes ago!"

A loud groan accompanied returning of a tall, slim body to the vertical position, combined with tossing back a mane of black hair. "I'm sure Doctor Hunnicutt is quite capable of running the ward for a quarter of an hour without my humble self assisting him," a sarcastic answer followed. "Besides, I talked to Doctor Sheridan, and he said I could—"

"How dare you talk to me like that! Sheridan is not the person responsible for you! You're still under my supervision, remember that, Pierce!"

"Of course, Doctor Burns. How could I ever forget it?"

Frank Burns, red on his face and highly agitated, left the canteen, muttering under his breath something about Pierce 'never being able to follow orders', while his particular victim of choice, the best thoracic surgeon this hospital has seen in ten years, yawned widely and eagerly rubbed on a sore thigh. Sighing, Doctor Pierce started to make way towards the Surgical Ward, which was definitely not a pleasant destination, given the aforementioned presence of one Doctor Hunnicutt.

Who was very obviously there, pouring in two cups of coffee, and handing one to the newcomer. "So, I understand Burns had finally tracked you down, huh?"

"Keep your understandings to yourself, Hunnicutt," the black-haired doctor sipped on some coffee. "Did you want something from me, or were you just planning to continue annoying me with some form of a conversation?"

The man questioned looked down, embarrassed, and combed his fingers through waves of soft, sandy-blond hair. "Well, actually… Burns chose me to write a paper to a medical journal, based on two of three new procedures we practiced last month, and I thought, since you were present during all of them, you could maybe give me a hand an—"

Pierce roared with laughter, and shot the miserably-looking man a nasty glare. "Now, now, _Beej_, what has it come to? You're asking _me_ for help? And what, pray tell, is in it for me? The questionable pleasure of spending even _more_ time with you? Why the heck would I want _that _to happen? Thanks, but I think I'll pass the opportunity." Two long legs have been planted on the table as Pierce tried to go on napping. However, another question came from the general direction of a coffee machine, this time asked in a quiet, calm, almost sad voice:

"You would have agreed if it was McIntyre asking for your help, wouldn't you?"

His colleague was about to snap back some nasty remark, but a sharp ringing of the phone interrupted what could have easily turned into a nasty quarrel. Again. Hunnicutt crossed the room and picked up the receiver, frowning on his co-worker.

"San Francisco Teaching Hospital, Surgical Ward, Doctor Hunnicutt speaking… Oh, hello, Aunt Meg! Yes, I'm fine, how about yourself? Glad to hear that. You probably didn't want to speak to me, did you? Yeah, we're taking a shift together. No, I'm not beat up, why should I be… Alright, alright, I'll pass the phone; you take care of yourself, and give my love to Uncle Ben. Bye!"

Sighing, he reached out the receiver. "Your mother wants to talk to you."

Groaning, the black-haired surgeon pushed the chair towards the phone. "Hi, mom."

"Darlene Pierce!" the unmistakable voice of one ex-Major coming down the telephone line could probably be heard even outside the doctors' room. "What have you done to poor Ben, _again_?"

The young woman in question rolled her eyes, taking her feet off the table. "Nothing, mom. He wanted my help with a task assigned upon him by Doctor Burns, and—"

"Then help him! You know how father and I like the Hunnicutts! And Ben is such a darling kid…"

"Yeah," Darlene muttered under her breath, not wanting to disturb her mother's rant about all of the unappreciated virtues of one Benjamin Jackson Don't-Call-Me-BJ-And-No-Beej-Isn't-Acceptable-Either Hunnicutt.

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**A/N: That's it for now—how did you like our teaser? Give us all the feedback you can, we accept suggestions and criticism, but once again we'd like to state: the first and foremost reason we're doing this is to have fun. Hope that you do, too :)**

**Sincerely,**

**Mon Alice & Maple Fay**


	2. Darlene

**A/N:** We're back! Thanks for the reviews—we do realize this first chapter might have been quite... confusing, but let's just hope today's installment sheds some light on the entire story. Enjoy!

Mon Alice and Maple Fay

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San Francisco, September 1984

You could definitely tell Darlene Pierce was in every inch her parent's child. Black, slightly wavy hair, that could remind you of her father, was reaching her shoulder blades (if she ever bothered to wear it loose, that is). Grayish-green eyes framed with black eyelashes were something that could remind one of her mother. Firm, piercing stare, a well developed ego and the abundance of stubbornness—these were the traits she inherited from both her mother and her father, and perhaps even doubled them inside of this tall but slim person that she became.

She was born in 1957, two years after her older dead-born brother, and when her parents after four years of marriage almost lost all hope of actually having a baby. Which meant she instantly became her family's apple of an eye. Much loved, much cared for and almost spoiled rotten, were it not for occasional spouts of firmness from her mother and protectiveness (especially boy-related protectiveness) from her father.

Still, Darlene had been rather a well balanced kid all along, and being nurtured with enough love she managed to survive her childhood unscathed, in spite of her family's rather erratic attempts at parenting. _And_ all along she also managed to maintain an image of a good girl without truly being one. She kept walking her own paths all the time she could, merely showing up on the right spot, at the right time, wearing proper clothes and properly moderate smile, when her presence was required. Naturally, everyone assumed she was this good diligent person, and she didn't correct them. Who needed to know she was so much more? Although she suspected that on some level, her parents must know, and must have known from the very beginning. Her father's eyes twinkled (she could never explain how, they just did) when he looked at her at times, and her mother used to wear this special smile reserved only for Darlene. And then sometimes the twinkle and the smile would meet, binding her parents with a thread of mutual communication, shared over her head and probably concerning her very self. Come to think of it, considering two long lines of quite interesting ancestors, she was probably not the first one in her family to be such an individualist.

Speaking of the aforementioned ancestors, there was never really any other option for her than medicine. It's not like she was _made_ to choose it. No such thing. It was more like a natural thing for her to do: follow her parents' footsteps. And her grandparents' and great-grandparents'—it seemed that the nursing and/or doctoring ran in both of the families.

At first when she was growing up she wanted to become a nurse, but then thought doctoring was so much cooler. In her teens it was already becoming more common to meet a lady doctor, than it had been in her prepubescence, and this idea, supported strongly by her father, was nested in her head ever since; all of her educational efforts concentrated on the sole purpose of becoming a doctor, and more precisely: a thoracic surgeon.

This is what had brought her to the place she was in now. Being a gifted student, she had began the university a year early, and now here she was, reaching 27, UC Berkley Med School graduate, at the beginning of her second year of residency in San Francisco Teaching Hospital. Her life would be altogether perfect if not for three very important details.

The Number One on her private list of all things annoying was taken by "the-pain-in-the-ass-extraordinaire", Head of the Surgical Ward—Frank 'Ferret Face' Burns. Until no more then a year ago, she had spent her whole her life almost certain that there were no _evil_ people in the world. Sure, some were annoying. Some were mean, but that didn't necessarily mean they were _truly evil_. Even back home, when her parents had heard under whose supervision she would be working from now on, all of them shared laughs and funny war stories, about old, stupid-but-mostly-harmless Ferret Face. When she met up with him though, she was faced with someone who practiced all his life to get truly _good_ at being evil. It might have taken him over 30 years, but he became like an old spider, seemingly stiff and inflexible, but very well aware of all movements of his prey, and being able to reach and crush it in no time. And, although pretty strict (read: malicious and sadistic) to all of the residents and other subordinate staff, for some reason he seemed to be particularly _fond of_ persecuting Darlene. By now she was sure it was somehow connected to the time her parents and Burns (or The Emperor, as some geeky resident started calling him before fleeting SFTH) had spent in Korea, but either she didn't know some of the best Korean stories as well as she should, or this man was just insane. Although not so certain about the first point, she would be definitely betting on the second. Still, there was something which annoyed her even more. Burns _never_ pestered Ben so much as he did her, and she couldn't quite explain that. He surely wasn't calculating subordinate's share of 'fault' against his authority by the number of their parents he had served with in Korea, was he? Well, with her luck he actually might.

This chain of thoughts was only pushing her towards another lately highly irritating presence in her life, namely this of one Benjamin Jackson Hunnicutt—currently taking up a high second position on her list. It's not that she didn't like Ben in general. She's known him since they were toddlers, and she's always liked him, for Heaven's sake! Even if they haven't seen each other for several years in a row some times, she still liked him. And then she decided to go study at the West Coast, choosing Berkeley. Ben, already living in SF, chose Berkley as well, and the rest became the proverbial history of how they ended up on the same course of studies, at the same year, in the same group. ("What else would my son BJ-standing-for-something-Hunnicutt be studying, huh?" uncle BJ had asked her father matter-of-factly.) Obviously they became best friends, but as the time went by Ben ("Don't call me BJ. I have _a name_ you know.") started developing _feelings_ towards her. Brrr, _feelings!_ Who could have thought?!

As far as she was concerned, besides several experimental ventures into the land of relationships she had made back in high school, she didn't really feel the need to be dealing with that whole emotional ordeal. Relationships were complicated, sex looked messy, and she preferred to concentrate on her studies. She figured once her career would be settled, she'd have the time to search for a guy fitting as perfectly with her as her father was with her mother. Or uncle BJ with aunt Peg. Or Erin's George with her. The bottom line was: a) Ben was her friend—defined as an almost sexless creature of a male kind, b) it was still too early for her to be getting herself a permanent fixture of the boyfriend kind. Sure, she liked Ben too much to want to hurt him with rejection, and for a while she tried to figure out why did it feel so wrong to think about them being an item. In the end all she came up with was that Ben was just too good and too nice a guy to actually make her heart beat any faster. And the fact that both of their families seemed very keen on the idea of matchmaking, which they expressed often (especially her mother) and never as-much-as-subtly didn't help her attitude much. Didn't they already _know_ how stubborn she was? True, her stubbornness, being the kind that wouldn't let her drink water in the desert if she was made to do so, got her in trouble on more than one occasion, but this—'the Ben Crisis' as she came to call it—was not a moment to step back from her life long habit. The worse thing was, that between the family nagging and Ben's puppy like devotion, she was having a hard time not to lash out at him every time she felt like it. And she knew she was failing miserably in her attempts. Sometimes she even thought it would have been easier if she really _was_ attracted to him, but whenever she saw his broad open face and a misty-eyed look directed at her, she knew that could never happen. Never ever, senior Pierces and Hunnicutts be damned.

In truth, there was someone. Someone catching her eye right from the moment she first set foot in the SFTH. He was one year senior in residency to both her and Ben, and whenever she saw him her heart fluttered, she was feeling hot and all coherent thought was out of her head in span of less than a second. He was quite tall and lean, with shoulder length curly red hair, and wonderful darkly framed green eyes, in which she could get lost for hours. If only he'd ever look at her that long, that is—something for which he was showing absolutely no inclination. He was very popular with the nurses, and the pretty girls always surrounded him, but even though she herself wasn't exactly an uggo, she wasn't good at getting his attention at all. For example when she had first heard his name was Francis McIntyre, a bell went ringing in her had, and she tried approaching him to ask if his father was by any accident the 'John 'Trapper" McIntyre'- her Pa's old buddy from Korea. He briefly brushed her off—in a most charming manner, of course, but the facts remained both clear and harsh— he didn't really bother to answer her question, nor to pay any particular attention to her.

That was the current number three on her list. Not being noticed by the one man she might actually… Well, it wasn't really important, was it? She was_ not_ into relationships anyway.

And back to Francis… Except for the female staff he was not really popular at the hospital, nor strangely enough with her father, which made him even more worthy of noticing in her eyes. Presently, he was considered the evil side-kick of Head of the Surgery by the crushing majority of hospital staff, and accordingly people gave him nicknames like: Frank Junior (obviously no one really called him anything else then Frank or McIntyre anyway), TESB—The Evil Spawn of Burns or more cordially Darth Vader to Burns' Emperor. Not Darlene, though; she in the secrecy of her heart has always called him 'Francis'. She was also convinced that this whole 'Burns-McIntyre-unholy-union' thing had to be some sort of a major misunderstanding. Francis was probably just a regular well intending person who just got mixed up with that grim scumbag. Perhaps—she wondered—she could try to talk to him about it, maybe clear the things up a bit? Bring him closer with the rest of the staff…

She brightened considerably, even sent a lopsided smile towards Ben—her partner on the shift, which he obviously misinterpreted judging from the bright beaming his face began to emit. Her mistake. Ever since their argument on Monday, that was followed by her mother's phone call, they have been keeping the much needed distance. Business talk only, no funny glances or anything that might give him _any _wrong impression. And here she just stepped over self-drawn boundaries. Damn! She returned her demeanor to the usual iciness, thinking that she would only have one more day of a shared shift with Ben, and that for the next schedule she'll do anything to land a) Francis b) anybody else as a shift partner. Ben would better start acting normal or she would have to stop speaking to him entirely. She frowned at him uninvitingly and got up, fully determined to do her rounds alone.

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**A/N:** Feedback is love :)


	3. Ben

Benjamin Jackson Hunnicutt hated not being called by his first name.

There was even more than that: he hated nicknames in general. He firmly believed that any nickname could become a signal to treat its bearer as a frilly, uncaring person, while he himself has always been an exceptionally serious young man.

He was quite sure that this particular mental quality came as a bonus of having a cheeky, funny, lightheaded person like Erin Hunnicutt-Wells for a sister.

Having been a prank-puller since the age of two, Erin was their father's unquestionable favorite. She drove the babysitters crazy, climbing trees, escaping them just before suppertime, bringing frogs and other suspicious animals home and voicing her temper in a violent manner whenever she thought something didn't fit her current mood. Ben, being five years younger than her, found himself in an awkward position of a child encouraged to follow wherever Erin led, which didn't always satisfy him. His mother wondered sometimes, looking in her son's honest, sky-blue eyes, which of her children was really older.

Ben held a deep interest in medicine since he was really small (Erin hated hospitals and doctors, with an exception for their father and Uncle Ben Pierce), and he methodically pursued his goal to become a doctor like BJ Senior from the very beginning of his primary education. Erin, on the other hand, showed no particular interest in school matters whatsoever, which was a peculiar thing for a person with a sharp-witted mind like hers. After graduating from high school, Erin went to UCLA to study English, but soon enough discovered her greatest wish was to become a mother and wife. She accomplished it at the age of twenty-one, marrying George Wells: a young, promising politician devoted to helping the community of San Francisco, whom she fell madly in love with soon after they'd met at some charity event hosted in Los Angeles. Ben was secretly hoping his brother-in-law liked feisty, rampageous women, but his concerns died out as it turned out that getting married, and giving birth to her first child the following year, had turned Erin Hunnicutt the Valkyrie into Erin Wells, the charity worker, sweet woman, devoted wife and mother, respected by many and liked by all. Ben felt greatly relieved and stopped worrying about his sister—especially since it was _himself_ who got into trouble at the very same time.

As a diligent and promising student, Ben had been accepted to several colleges, including Berkeley and Yale, and chose the former after careful consideration, backed up by a phone call from his favorite uncle, who had informed him with considerable pride that his beloved and only daughter, Darlene, decided to have her go at medicine as well, and since Fall would start attending that particular university. Ben didn't quite remember Darlene, having last seen her some eight years before (his parents couldn't exactly afford visiting their friends in Maine after his younger sister Corinne was born), but being a kind-hearted, friendly person he promised Uncle Ben to take the best possible care of her. When she arrived on the campus, carrying one small bag with clothes and two great suitcases filled with books, he offered to take her luggage up to her dorm on the faraway end of the campus. His sore back was to regret this decision for next two weeks, but otherwise he didn't mind it—not even for a second.

It was mostly because of the fact that before they reached their destination, he was head over heels in love with a jet-haired beauty with extraordinary green-grey eyes, whose fiery character reminded him a little bit of Erin. Having had many unfortunate experiences with the fairer sex, either from the position of the guy-in-love-with-the-school-beauty-queen, treated like a good friend but not as someone suitable for a romantic relationship, or the older student becoming the object of some freshmen's fantasies he couldn't possibly find himself able to fulfill, Ben decided not to tempt his moderately good luck, and court Darlene only from afar, being extremely polite and caring towards her, but hardly bringing up any feelings of a romantic nature. They became friends, in a strange manner that included her getting furious at him when her temper flared for whatever reason, and him enduring her outburst in meek silence, like it would score him some points for patience. As if. What was even worse though, was that some time during their fourth year Darlene caught a bit of a phone conversation between Aunt Meg and his mother, during which they were chirpingly musing over how Ben and Darlene's possible getting together, would unalterably cement both families together. She ranted about it for hours almost talking his ear off, before she finally asked him, straight and forward, what _his_ feelings about the whole matter were. Being an honest young man, Ben admitted his devotion to her, which was welcomed with another tirade, this time not really filled with anger, but rather with sorrow. Didn't he know she was trying to concentrate on her studies? And why would he want to become more than friends, when friendship was so wonderful already? She could never offer him anything more, and she hoped he understood it, et caetera, et caetera. Obviously Ben felt deeply hurt by her statement, and the two didn't talk for about a month, before they came to and agreement on keeping their relationship strictly platonic (Darlene specifically warned Ben about 'trying any funny stuff' and its possible consequences—tearing his limbs off was one of the more pleasant ones), which didn't actually satisfy the young Hunnicutt, but what could be done about it? Nothing whatsoever, considering Darlene's character, vastly reminding the onlookers who knew her family's history of her mother's maiden times.

Faced with the possibility of losing their friendship, Ben confined his feelings the best he could, which obviously wasn't enough since she could still tell on the spot he was crazy about her, and use it either to get on his softer side when she needed a favor (admittedly, this didn't happen too often), or to unload the whole packets of negative emotions upon him, when she couldn't deal with them on her own.

Ben, on his part, tried to be as supportive as possible, always a friend, never claiming more after the initial rejection she gave him. Nevertheless, something in him shook internally whenever Darlene developed a new crush—which only happened twice during their university years, and didn't last long enough to bother him. The newest one, however, by the name of Francis McIntyre, drove him crazy with almost everything he did, and there was, again, nothing Ben could ever do about it.

I'm going to go off the edge if she doesn't let the guy go _soon_, he thought dimly, stabbing his food with a fork, not really in a mood for eating. His grim solitude was disturbed, however, by a resonant voice sounding over his head:

"Got a free place there, Hunnicutt?"

Ben raised his head and met a sympathetic gaze of brown eyes hidden behind round glasses. "Don't know. Brought any blonde Hollywood beauties along, by chance?"

"Loretta Swit," Cory Potter Sheridan, MD—a great fan of all things medical, including TV series—answered with a grin. "What do you say?"

Ben smiled just-so and moved to make some space for the skinny surgeon to squeeze in. Cory was his greatest authority and direct supervisor as well as one of the best friends Ben ever had. His father went half-crazy with happiness when he first heard Ben would be working with his former CO's grandson, and Ben could say that if Cory was half as good as his grandfather, then the old Colonel must have been a top-class man. Cory got well with everybody, including the Chief Surgeon Frank My-Wife's-Family-Bought-Me-This-Job Burns, but he expressed particularly warm feelings towards Ben, who was the only resident taking up his specialty in general and abdominal surgery (Darlene chose thoracic, and McIntyre, after much consideration, decided upon neurosurgery. He treated Ben not only like a student, but also like a little brother, and showed much consideration for his well-being.

"What's bothering you?" he asked now, attacking his steak with plastic cutlery. "Or do I already know the answer?"

Ben shrugged, trying to gather up some enthusiasm towards his helping of spaghetti. "I'm going to go nuts and crackers if she doesn't quit swooning over that McIntyre guy."

Cory swallowed a juicy piece and rolled his eyes, gesticulating his fork as he spoke. "Look, I may not know Miss Pierce as well as you do, but I am quite sure she never follows the path somebody's laid out in front of her. The more you're going to try and convince her to quit thinking about that guy, the more determined she'd become." He swallowed another mouthful and shook his head with a small smile. "I do not believe there's anyone in this world stupid enough to actually _forbid_ her anything."

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Benjamin Franklin Pierce loved to sleep. He devoted at least seven hours per day to that lovely occupation, and nothing, repeat: nothing could make him willingly leave his warm bed and the arms of his darling wife at night.

Except, of course, for the nights on which that wonderful woman who made his life after war a miraculously happy time experienced some inner struggles that kept her tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning.

Tonight was one of those special nights. Hawkeye got home from his late shift at the hospital around ten, ate dinner holding hands with Margaret and excused himself to his study to catch up on some urgent mail that needed answering. He turned the radio on and hummed to himself, barely noticing his wife's loud ranting as she spoke to somebody (probably their daughter) on the phone, and worked until two in the morning before he finally climbed upstairs, took a long, warm shower and slid under the bedcovers, basking in the warmth of Margaret's skin.

Which lasted for about thirty seconds, before she groaned and pushed him away, turning onto her other side. Hawkeye withdrew his arm and patiently waited for her to calm down—having known Margaret Houlihan-Pierce for almost a half of his life brought him to the conclusion that of her moods were far better off if he let them cool down by themselves rather than ask too many questions and risk being hit with something heavy or sharp.

Besides, those nighttime struggles never lasted long.

After approximately forty-five minutes, Hawkeye decided (against his better judgment) to ask the question.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Margaret snorted and sat up straight, looking down at him with her lips pressed tightly together.

"What's _wrong_? Oh, nothing's _wrong_! It's just your daughter is about to commit one of the greatest mistakes of her life, that's all!"

Hawkeye blinked and sighed inwardly before pulling himself up, too. "What do you mean? What did she tell you?"

"Well, she didn't exactly tell me anything, but I talked to Ben for a while, and he sounded pretty down… You know he's got feelings for her, don't you?"

"Peg mentioned something a couple of years ago, but I thought that since they aren't dating or anything—"

"_We_ weren't _dating_ in Korea, but we got married soon afterwards, do you remember?"

"Point taken. So?"

"Ben really cares for her, and she's quite… icy towards him. And I'm sure it has something to do with young Francis being there and messing with her mind. She's been talking about him way too much recently."

"How can you tell he's messing?"

"Well, if he's anything like his father—"

"I don't want to hear any more of this!" Hawkeye exclaimed, raising his arms up in a surrendering gesture. After all these years, he still had some problems getting over Margaret's being attracted to McIntyre Senior during their time in Korea. "What do you think we should do about it? Maybe I'll talk to her?"

"Hawkeye, she _is_ your daughter. Do you honestly think she would listen?"

"Of course she would! I'm a master of conduct with difficult women," he winked at Margaret and leaned in to kiss her, lingering a moment too long for it to pass as a casual caress. "Right, I'll go down and call her, she must have returned home by now. And when I'm back—I expect to find you much more relaxed than you are now, Mrs. Pierce."

His wife smiled and pecked him on the lips with an incredulous smile. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

After he sat comfortably in his favorite armchair downstairs, Hawkeye picked up the receiver and called Darlene's apartment, humming some old songs as he waited for the connection.

"Hello?" Darlene's roommate picked up, and Doctor Pierce didn't waste a second before slipping into the well-known skin of an uncorrectable womanizer.

"Hello, Monica? This is Benjamin Pierce speaking, how are you this evening?"

"Oh, hello, Doctor Pierce!" the girl giggled into the receiver, liking him very much. "I'm fine, thank you. I'll get Darlene right away."

Mere seconds later Hawkeye heard his daughter's husky voice. "Dad? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Because your mother isn't. She's quite put off by your conversation earlier. Darlene, please tell me there's nothing going on between you and young Frank, is there?"

"His name is _Francis_, dad," she hissed and grunted. "Why do you always assume I'm making the wrong choice? Don't you trust me?"

"I do trust you, darling, you course I do! I just don't trust him."

"Why not? He's the son of your war buddy, right? And Ben Hunnicutt is one, too, right? So why do you all keep forcing me into reconsidering Ben, but push me away from Francis? I don't understand it, dad, and I'm not sure I want to. And as for whether there's anything 'going on' between us—well, I honestly think it's none of your business."

"Darlene," he tried to remain calm, but she was already starting to get under his skin, just like her mother used to do before they got married, and it started to show in the timbre of his voice, "please listen to me. I don't want to force you into anything, but I also wouldn't like to see you get hurt. You don't want to be with Ben, fine; all I'm asking you is not to throw yourself into McIntyre's arms before you get to know him better." Like your mother did, he wanted to add, but bit his tongue in the very last moment, hearing her breathing getting faster and labored on the other line of the telephone line.

"You're asking me to do it, dad? Well, let me tell you something: I will date whoever I please, and I'm _asking_ you to accept it, or I will go and show those first years in their dorm what fun really _is_ about! I'm a grownup, for Heaven's sake! Try treating me as one for a change!"

With that, she slammed her phone, leaving Hawkeye in the darkness of his study with a pretty stunned expression on his face. He sighed and scratched his head, gazing at the silent phone until he finally made up his mind about the whole thing and walked back to his bedroom. Margaret waited for him, her face hardly visible in the darkness.

"That was quick," she commented sarcastically. "Did she listen?"

"No," he sighed, slipping off his robe and climbing into bed, pulling her down to lie next to him. "I'm afraid we're going to call upon higher authorities to get it sorted out." His lips found her neck in the darkness and he smiled, nipping on it gently. Margaret sighed with pleasure, but still tried to remain focused on the matter in hand.

"Do you think it'll work?"

"I'm not sure," he said, impatient to get her mind off the problem. "And I won't be, until I get up tomorrow and place a call to my buddy. As for now, there is nothing we can do about it—however, we could indulge ourselves in other interesting activities. May I present you the vast specter of available entertainments, Mrs. Pierce?"

From the way she kissed him back, Hawkeye figured he bought himself some time. He intended to talk to Trapper first thing in the morning—morning being the operative word.

Some things never change, you see.

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**A/N:** Feedback is still love ;) Hope you enjoyed this installment!


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